


Prompt 26: Too Cold!

by irrationalgame



Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [26]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Comfortween, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: Comfortween prompts from https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/22946.html26. Too Cold!Warming someone up, caring for hypothermia, preventing frostbite.In which Jimmy is in love with Thomas and also punches him in the face.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949317
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	Prompt 26: Too Cold!

**Author's Note:**

> The link to the prompt is tenuous at best but I’m not in control of the plot machine anymore kids. Someone teach me how to write short things please I’m dying here

Jimmy was miserable. The weather was a god-awful mix of sleety-snowy-slush and a howling wind that threw it directly into his face whenever he dared to step outside. The cheer of Christmas and the New Year had come and gone and he was stuck in the post-festive rut of perma-dark days and nothing to look forwards too except two-to-three months of gloom. He was snappish and continually cold and _bored_.

And when he was bored, he was _miserable_. And when he was miserable, he was _nasty_.

Because Jimmy hated being bored - having nothing to do and nowhere to go gave him too much time to think. And even when he made a concerted effort to think about any other topic under the godforsaken sun, his mind always circled around to a certain under-butler. And when he thought too much about Thomas and his perfect smile and his mother-of-pearl eyes and his cheekbones that could cut you open - he got into such a mess it was like his brain was a ball of wool incapable of coherent thought and his fingers were great numb pillars of salt, unwieldy and useless, and he stuttered and fumbled and blushed and it had to _stop_.

It had to stop before someone - _Thomas_ \- noticed that Jimmy was in love with him.

So he caused trouble. Nothing major, nothing to risk his job (and leave Thomas? Never) or draw too much attention from Carson. Just the odd word to Alfred here and a flirtatious smile to Ivy there, just to keep the undercurrent of animosity running. It was a distraction, nothing more, from the thing he so desperately needed distracting from.

Until he inevitably went too far.

He’d only been teasing, winding up Alfred as usual by throwing patently awful compliments at Ivy and then smirking at the lanky tosser when she swooned over him, until Daisy poked her nose in and said, accusingly:

“You don’t even like Ivy, anyone with a brain,” she threw Ivy a pointed look, “can see you’re not really interested in _her_.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jimmy smirked, leaning against the wall, “Ivy’s a pretty girl. Any red-blooded bloke would be interested, wouldn’t they.”

“Yeah,” Daisy replied, pointing a wooden spoon at him, “but you’re _not_ interested, are ya? So what’s that say ‘bout _you_ then?”

Jimmy’s rational side said she was just defending Alfred because she was, for some ineffable reason, besotted with the ginger oaf. Unfortunately, Jimmy wasn’t very in touch with his rational side. They were distant acquaintances at best. So instead of shrugging it off, like any sane person would do (also not very in touch with his sanity either), he went completely, well, _mental_.

“What the _fuck_ are you implying?” he hissed. Ivy gasped at his bad language and Daisy’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates. “The last time I checked, no one gave two shits about the bloody opinion of a stupid, mousey, desperate little cook with delusions of grandeur. So shut up and keep your comments to yourself before I shut you up, alright?”

Jimmy’s fists were clenched, his jaw tight, and for a moment he considered punching a hole in the kitchen wall. The tension was palpable and no one dared to breathe, let alone move or speak.

It was, unfortunately, Alfred who broke the silence.

“What did ya say ta her?!” Alfred exclaimed, squaring up to Jimmy. “Insultin’ a girl? You’ve been spendin’ too much time poncing about wiv that _awful_ Mr Barrow. Try sayin’ that to me instead, like a _real_ man would.”

Jimmy wheeled around on the second footman, his fists still tight balls at his side, the pent up emotion in him reaching the point of explosion. Alfred had gone too far bringing _Thomas_ into this. Too far indeed. Jimmy launched himself at Alfred but, with more agility than you’d think the lanky git could muster, he dodged to the side and Jimmy collided with the kitchen table with a yowl. He pushed off the table and lunged blindly after Alfred, his fists flying.

He hadn’t noticed Thomas coming into the kitchen - the under-butler had his nose in a ledger and wasn’t paying attention to the ruckus.

Footman collided with under-butler, one of his errant fists catching Thomas square in the jaw.

Jimmy took one look at Thomas, laid out on his back on the kitchen floor, and then he ran.

Straight down the servant’s corridor, past the boot-room and a very confused Molesley, and out of the back door. He ran into the sleet-soaked night, his legs pumping, his tails flapping behind him, wishing he could run himself into oblivion.

He’d just threatened a tiny woman and punched the man he was in love with in the face. He’d ruined his entire life in one gigantic shit-show.

He only stopped when the intensity of his sobbing made it impossible to keep running full pelt. He’d gone a long way into the estate, all the way up Sidown Hill, so he flopped down against the ruins of the red-bricked folly that sat atop the hill. He was bitterly cold, apart from the burn in his lungs, but he couldn’t for the life of him summon the strength to get up off the floor.

Perhaps he’d freeze to death out here, with the lights of Downton Abbey visible not two miles away.

He started sobbing anew, his head in his hands. He’d fucked up phenomenally and he wasn’t sure there was any coming back from it.

* * *

Thomas lay on the kitchen floor for a full thirty seconds before anyone moved. It was poor Daisy who sprang to life first, running to Thomas’s side with terrified eyes.

“Mr Barrow!” she squeaked, “Oh my Lord! Alfred, stop gawkin’ an’ help us will ya?”

Alfred blinked and loped over - he helped Thomas up and into a chair.

“Oh blimey Mr Barrow, you look like your face exploded,” Daisy said, pressing a tea-towel against his lip.

“What on earth’s happened here?!” Mrs Patmore said, choosing exactly the wrong moment to bustle into the kitchens.

“Jimmy,” Ivy started but Daisy cut her off.

“Mr Barrow had an accident,” she said, her eyes begging Thomas to fill the gaps in her story.

“I was very clumsy,” Thomas said, stalling. “I tripped and banged my face on the table.”

“That’s right, isn’t it Alfred?” Daisy said. Her tone was sharp and Thomas felt oddly proud of her. He made sure to glare at Alfred, just to hammer the point home.

“Uh...yeah?” said Alfred, warily eyeing Thomas and Daisy. Ivy kept blissfully quiet, most likely out of loyalty to Jimmy, although any designs she’d had on him had probably gone out of the window after witnessing that display.

Mrs Patmore stared suspiciously between them but shrugged her shoulders, seemingly deciding she didn’t care enough to poke holes. “Do you need the first aid kit Mr Barrow?” she said.

Thomas shook his head. What he needed was to find the idiot footman and fix the damn mess he’d created before he lost his job.

Carson walked in, his eyes fixed on a list as long as Thomas’s arm, and said; “I’m about to ring the gong. Everything in good order Mrs Patmore?”

“Not really,” she said, “Mr Barrow is bleedin’ all over me kitchen, Daisy looks like she’s seen a ghost, Ivy’s turned a mute, Alfred is loitering again and god knows what’s happened to our first footman.”

Carson dropped the list and blinked. “That was a lot of information to receive Mrs Patmore,” he said.

“I, uh, had to send Jimmy to bed,” Thomas lied from beneath the tea towel, “he’s not well at all.”

“I’ll say,” muttered Alfred. Daisy narrowed her eyes and his mouth snapped shut.

“And I’ve had a run in with the kitchen table,” Thomas continued. He dropped the tea towel into his lap and gave Mr Carson a bloodied smile.

Carson pulled a face of utter disgust. “You absolutely cannot be seen upstairs like that so I suppose I shall have to make do with Alfred this evening. Come along Alfred,” he said, and left.

Thomas caught Alfred’s arm as he passed and hissed; “One word and your life will not be worth living.” Alfred nodded and left as quickly as his lanky legs would carry him.

Daisy resumed mopping Thomas’s face with the tea towel.

“Thank you Daisy,” Thomas replied earnestly.  
“Tell me - what happened in here before I came in?”

Daisy thought for a moment and said; “Jimmy were meddlin’ with Alfred and Ivy, like usual, an’ I just said he weren’t really interested in her. And he, I dunno Mr Barrow, he shouted at me and used language that’d make a sailor blush. Then Alfred insulted you,” she grimaced, “and Jimmy jus’ went for him like a hound after a fox. You were jus’ in the wrong place, it were Alfred he were tryin’ to hit.

Thomas at least understood the impulse to punch the second footman. But it was odd that Jimmy had done it in _his_ defence.

“You better get on an’ find him,” she added, “I’ll cover for you if anyone asks.”

“Thank you Daisy,” he said, handing her the tea towel. “Jimmy doesn’t deserve your help after the way he spoke to you.”

She shrugged. “I know. But you do.”

Thomas frowned at that, “What do you mean?”

Daisy gave him a rather withering look. “You don’t have to pretend Mr Barrow. I see the way he looks at you.” She smiled, “It’s nice you’ve found each other, it must be difficult.”

Thomas gaped for a moment before carefully schooling his face into neutrality. “I - Daisy I think you’ve got the wrong idea about Jimmy.”

She rolled her eyes and said; “If you say so Mr Barrow.”

* * *

Thomas quickly threw on his coat and hat and slipped out of the back door, still reeling from his conversation with Daisy. It was already dark and it was sleeting again, the footpath one great, slushy puddle. He set as fast a pace as he could in the inclement weather - his lip throbbed to the beat of his heart and the back of his head was sore where it had connected with the tiled kitchen floor, but it paled into insignificance compared to the worry that was gnawing at his insides.

As he walked he considered Daisy’s words. Jimmy had indeed been acting strangely for a while - since just after the servant’s ball. At the party he’d drunk too much punch, slighted Ivy when she’d asked to dance and had followed Thomas around like a lost puppy for the rest of the evening, pouting like a child whenever Thomas danced with anyone.

After that he’d been more unpleasant than usual and no one apart from Thomas could get a nice word out of him. He went about the Abbey with a face like thunder but Thomas only had to look at the footman and his expression would transform from sourness to adoration. Jimmy always stood and sat too close to Thomas for propriety and touched him at any opportunity - to flick off a bit of fluff or to straighten his tie or to brush an imaginary speck of nothing off his shoulder. When Thomas spoke, well, Jimmy acted as if the under-butler was reciting the lost sonnets of Shakespeare and hung on every damn word. He’d mention innocuous little things Thomas had said days later, when even the under-butler had forgotten he’d said them.

And then there was today. Jimmy had physically attacked Alfred for daring to slight Thomas’s character. If he didn’t know better he’d think Jimmy _was_ in love with him or something.

 _Shite_.

It _couldn’t_ be.

Thomas shook the impossible thought away and pressed on, trudging deeper into the estate. In the summer months they’d taken a few nice strolls together through the grounds - Jimmy always pretended to be interested in the follies just so Thomas would talk about them, so it had become a bit of a thing between them to walk to one folly or another to sit and have a smoke. Thomas’s favourite was heaven’s gate, an old red-brick arch on the top of Sidown hill. The view over the estate from the top made the climb worth it and they’d gone up several times before.

Thomas would start there then work his way around the estate’s many follies, then perhaps check the village. Jimmy hadn’t taken any money or even a jacket, so he couldn’t have gotten too far.

He hoped.

* * *

Jimmy could count the number of times he’d cried as an adult on his fingers: after his dad and then mum had gone and died; after Anstruther had taken him to her bed for the first time; after Alfred had walked in on Thomas kissing him and then two or three times after the Thirsk fair incident. When he’d realised he’d fallen in love with Thomas he’d cried all night out of sheer frustration that he’d realised it far too late.

Now though, he felt like he’d never be able to stop crying. He was shaking, partly from cold and partly from being so overwrought, and had been forced to let his head rest against his sopping wet knees to stop himself from keeling over.

He didn’t hear Thomas approaching.

“You’re going to catch your death out here,” he said, all smoothness and insouciance.

Jimmy couldn’t bear to look at him. “Good.”

“You’re being melodramatic.”

“Am not. I’ve just ruined my life.”

“Says who?”

“I’ll be sacked,” Jimmy said, his face still hidden against his knees, “and I - I hit you. You must hate me.”

“And yet here I am up a bloody mountain in the pissing, sleeting rain looking for you,” Thomas replied. “Funny that.”

A spark of hope. Jimmy looked up - Thomas was leaning against the arch of the folly, rain dripping from the brim of his hat. His bottom lip had a nasty split on one side and there was a bruise forming on his jaw.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Thomas,” Jimmy said, fighting to keep himself from breaking down again. “I didn’t mean to - it was Alfred I were going for and - I just - I get so emotional. I’m a mess Thomas. But I didn’t want to hurt you - it’s the last thing I want.”

Thomas seemed to hesitate for a moment before plonking himself down in the dirt next to Jimmy. “I know,” he said, “and I wish you’d tell me what’s the matter.” He shook the last cigarette out of the pack and lit it, sheltering it from the sleet with his other hand. He offered it to Jimmy who took a long drag, his hands trembling.

“I’m like a coiled up spring, ready to go off at anything,” Jimmy replied shakily, handing the cig back. He scrubbed a hand over his face - his tears had finally stopped but rain was wetting his cheeks instead.

“You know what calms a bloke right down? Finding a nice girl.” He took a drag, passed the cig back.

Jimmy snorted. “I’m not the type to settle down with a _nice girl_.”

“Then you’ve got to find other ways to relieve the _tension_.”

Jimmy coughed, choking on the lungful of smoke he’d just inhaled. Thomas clapped him on the back until Jimmy could take a breath again. He let his hand fall to Jimmy’s shoulder, his arm draped around his neck - he didn’t protest as he probably should, but rather let himself lean into the touch, pressing their sides together.

“Bloody hell Thomas, don’t go sayin’ things like that to me.” He gave Thomas a rueful look. “You don’t know what it does to me.”

Thomas blinked. “What - what do you mean by that?”

Jimmy sighed and flicked the cigarette butt into the night. “I mean, it makes me - I don’t bloody know Thomas. I feel like I want to punch you and kiss you at the same time.”

“Well,” Thomas smirked and pointed to his fat lip, “you already punched me, so?” He shrugged.

“Don’t joke, not now,” Jimmy shook his head. “I’m trying to decide what the hell to do.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Let’s get back to the Abbey before you catch your death out here. I’ve made our excuses to Carson, so as long as we sneak in during dinner you’ll be alright. Alfred and Ivy won’t say anything. And Daisy actually lied to Mrs Patmore for you.”

Jimmy gave him a surprised look. “After the way I spoke to her?”

“Yes. I think she’s just worried about you. I know I am.”

* * *

The trudge back to the Abbey was painful; Thomas took his coat off and tried to wrap it around Jimmy’s shoulders, unable to watch the footman shivering any longer.

“But now you’ll be cold and wet,” Jimmy protested through chattering teeth. “Here,” he held the coat open so Thomas could slip it over his shoulders too. Jimmy slung his arm around Thomas’s shoulder and marvelled the warmth of Thomas’s arm draped around his waist.

“Well this is cosy,” Thomas said breathlessly.

“Shut up will you,” Jimmy replied, “I’m bloody dyin’ of exposure ‘ere.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Alfred’s.”

* * *

They managed to sneak through the servant’s hall, only to run into a confused looking Anna at the top of the stairs. She took one look at the state of them both and said; “I don’t want to know!” before running down and disappearing through the green baize door.

“Get into something dry then come to my room,” Thomas said, “I’ll get the burner going.”

Jimmy stripped off his ruined livery and kicked it into a corner before dressing in his pyjamas and robe, and wrapping a thick blanket around his shoulders. He was still painfully cold, as if it had permeated his very bones.

Thankfully Thomas had the privilege of a little wood burner in his room - something he’d had to practically beg for and had only succeeded in convincing Carson to let him use it by complaining about the ache in his war-wound to Mrs Hughes. By the time Jimmy let himself in to Thomas’s room he’d managed to get the thing roaring.

“Here, come on,” Thomas said, dragging his easy chair as close as he could to the burner without risking the thing catching fire.

Jimmy sat down, shivering, and said; “Thank you. For, y’know. Not hating me. Saving me from me own stupidity.”

Thomas smirked; “And we all know how great a task that is.”

“Be serious,” Jimmy frowned, his eyes on the purple bruise along Thomas’s jaw. “Bloody hell, look what I did to your face.”

Thomas pulled up his desk chair and sat beside Jimmy, rubbing warmth into his hands. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, and that we’re my fault an’ all.”

“You’re worth it,” Thomas said, a half-smile pulling at his lips.

“I am absolutely _not_ ,” Jimmy said and put his pounding head in his aching hands. “Thomas I’m - I pretend I’m _something_. I play at being cleverer and nicer and more _real_ than I am. But I’m - I’m nothing.”

“Rubbish,” Thomas replied, “you’re not nothing because you’re _something_ to me.”

Jimmy gave him a look. “Am I?”

“Always, idiot.”

Jimmy huffed out a laugh, then coughed for a full minute.

“You’ve caught a chill,” Thomas said, “not surprising, considering.”

Jimmy leaned over and grabbed Thomas’s chair, pulling it over the floorboards with a squeal of wood on wood, until it was touching the side of his chair. He paused, unsure of what to do next.

Thomas looked at him and said; “Is this a metaphor or were you planning on doing something else?”

“You don’t make this easy.”

“Coming from you that’s very insulting.”

Jimmy frowned and said; “Just put your bloody arm around me would you?”

Thomas smirked but his hand shook as he draped his arm over Jimmy’s shoulder. “Jimmy,” he said, “I wish you’d talk to me.”

Jimmy stared at the flickering flames and said; “Thomas I - I’m miserable.”

“I can see that.”

“And I only cause trouble to distract meself from it.”

“From what?”

“How I’m...in love with you.”

“Oh.” Silence for a moment then; “I _knew_ it.”

Jimmy wheeled on Thomas, dislodging his arm. “You bleedin’ _liar_ , there’s no way you could’ve known.”

Thomas raised one eyebrow. “Jimmy, there have been more subtle bombs dropped.”

The footman blinked. “Oh.”

“I was waiting for you to do something about it. I just didn’t know it would be, y’know, punching me in the face.”

“You’re never going to let me forget that are you?” Jimmy said. He reached out and touched the tip of his index finger to the cut on Thomas’s lip. “I am very sorry.”

“I know,” Thomas replied.

“Very, very sorry,” Jimmy said, then shivered and added; “I’m still frozen through - think of a way to warm me up will you?”

Thomas kissed Jimmy’s hand. “Oh, I can think of several.”


End file.
